Class

Before this morning, the only course I'd ever taught was third grade Hebrew school, which, as I remember it, was a little easier than my Journalism 101 seminar was today. At Central Synagogue, whenever my co-teacher and I didn't know the answer to a student's question ("What does 'bris' mean?", say), we would sometimes just respond "It's a small furry dog" and then walk briskly in the other direction. Speaking to a room full of accomplished medical administrators, I didn't really have the option of that particular out.


This is not to say that I totally bombed; I made it through most of the three-plus hours without nervously sweating through my shirt, and possibly conveyed some useful information about the fabled "Inverted Pyramid". But it was a little more daunting than I'd thought it would be to play the expert.

My teaching style is kind of a mixed bag. I can veer toward the pretensious (paraphrase): "Faced with zillions of details at any given second, the act of writing is really about editing and imposing order on reality and framing it for other people to understand." Or the painfully obvious: "When you're doing journalism, it's really important not to make stuff up." But I did get across the basics: "Try not to repeat the same idea several times in one paragraph."

Actually, it probably went fine. My reviews were clearly better than those of the actor whose case study we examined and edited together. The unfortunate Mr. Ganesan from the Dindigul district was evidently in the middle of performing in a folk drama last month when an audience member threw a stone that hit his right eye (which was enucleated the next morning with great care and compassion at the Aravind Eye Hospital). "'With the remaining left eye I will continue my profession successfully,' he told the doctor in a voice that echoed his extraordinary self confidence."

In setting up my notes, I came upon this really interesting feature from Esquire last year (that evidently won the Ellie for best article) about a man who was blind all of his life and then regained sight in his forties through a new stem cell procedure. It's *very* long, but very worth reading: "Into the Light", by Robert Kurson. Maybe one day I'll be able to write like that. Then won't my class be wonderful...